Light raindrops patter down my hair when I open the car door, Emerson reminding Edith and Elias again to stay in the car and look out for any strangeness as I take in the scene. For a moment, everything feels surreal, like my parents aren't dead, shouldn't be and can't be, and these past days are all part of a fever dream. This funeral isn't a normal funeral for a normal working couple, it's a chance for the murderer to be found out, and police have dotted themselves in so naturally in the crowd. It feels wrong and uncomfortable, having such a sad and solemn day turned into some kind of secret operation at the same time, but this is the way things have to be, and I have to get on with it.

"I've got the cameras," Emerson tells them, which catches my attention, and I look over his shoulder to see three sleek, small black cubes, with dark dots encircling the main lenses. "Once they're set up and switched on, the displays will come up on the app on the iPad. One of you, don't look away from it. Another stays looking out at the street and keeps track of anything the cameras won't see. Alright?"

"Alright," Edith agrees, unlocking the iPad and kicking the back of Elias' seat. "Got it?"

"Yeah," Elias confirms, but he's looking out at the barn and the outdoor fountain where most of the guests are scattered around with a thoughtful frown on his face.

I get out of the car, and Edith smiles at me encouragingly as she goes to sit at the front with her brother. Emerson makes his way to me, but my eyes are on Lizzie, who's just turned around to notice me. I can't hold back a smile of relief and slight happiness to see her face again, and I go to meet her as she rushes over to me, practically picking me off the ground as she hugs me. My cheeks flush red, but then she's off of me again, her hands clutching my arms as worried eyes scan my face and body avidly.

"Holly! Oh my goodness, it's so good to see you, love," she breathes. "How have you been? Where have you been?! I- I know you can't really say, though, can you, which is understandable. Well, as long as you're safe."

"I'm safe, Lizzie," I nod in agreement, "and it's good to see you too. Thanks, for planning all of this. It's good to know that I'm not, well, alone in it."

"No, no, you're never alone," Lizzie shakes her head, her hands rubbing my arms and down. "It's been no problem at all, Holls. There's too much to handle on top of everything else, and you've only just turned eighteen... no, I'll always be here to help you out wherever I can. You're practically family to me, anyway."

I smile at her words, giving her an almost vulnerable look of gratefulness that she reads and returns perfectly, before Mia comes over and her arms loop around my shoulders.

"Holly! I feel like I haven't seen you in forever," Mia tells me in a rush. "How've you been? Have you figured anything out?"

I glance over at Emerson, who's talking quietly with Brunsley, cameras handed over. That police officer from before, Charlie Doyle, is standing nearby too, nodding at me with a half-smile. I nod back at him, and Emerson turns his attention to me, his dark gaze flicking to meet Mia's attentively.

Mia blushes at the intensity of Emerson's stare, and I hide a smile as she quickly looks away, eyes a fraction wider when she looks back at me.

"Who's that? Do you know him? He looks annoyed."

I scoff under my breath. "He always looks like that. He's just... a friend of mine."

Mia blinks, taken aback slightly as she tries to sneak another look. "Oh. I've not seen him around. Well, I, um, I'm sorry, again. About your mum and dad. Hopefully, today will be okay, being able to say a proper goodbye to them instead of leaving it where... when we..."

"Hopefully," I finish for her, a small smile on my face. "Yeah."

Brunsley comes over as we're speaking, Emerson with him, and Charlie advances to the entrance of Falmer Court, standing by the door watchfully.

"It's good to see you again, Holly," Brunsley says with a genuine smile. "You too, Miss Williams."

Mia smiles back at him. "Nice to see you. I should catch up with my parents. See you inside, Holly."

"Good to see you too," I respond, after waving Mia off. "This should be... interesting."

"Well, everything's under control," he says, lowering his tone as he continues. "We've got five men dotted around the place, eyes and ears open, and if by any unfortunate chance, things take a bad turn, backup is prepared. I'll be setting these cameras up at the entryway, one pointing out and one in, and the other in the main hall. If anything odd goes on, we'll all know it. We're prepared, I assure you."

"Great," I acknowledge, pausing the conversation briefly to smile lightly and thank a business couple who come over to give their condolences.

"How's your neck, Holly?" Brunsley adds, and I shrug, moving my hair for a quick moment for him to see the faded marks that have blossomed over my skin.

"Getting better, thank you."

The door to the building opens, and guests start filtering in, Brunsley giving me a knowing look as he leaves me with Emerson, striding off to stand with Charlie and murmuring something in his ear. More people come over to me with caring eyes and polite words, which I take with repeated small smiles and nods of thanks. It's almost tiring, though I'm not ungrateful. I'm just not sure what I'm feeling yet. Maybe I'm feeling so much I've gone numb. Or maybe I've always been numb.

Grief works in different ways. Cut yourself some slack.

"Shall we go in?" Emerson asks me, looking over his shoulder in the direction of the car, windows blacked out and not showing a sign of Edith and Elias watching and waiting inside.

"Might as well."

The barn we enter is old-fashioned and elegant, with soft piano music playing from some speakers that contrast with the naked wooden slats and beams that stand tall amongst the brick walls. The golden-yellow chandelier that graces the middle of the room is just as grand as the Tyrels', chairs in neat rows that lead up to the bricked stage. The curtains are a transparent black, lit up with plain white fairy lights streaking up and down the material. In front of the set-up is a middle-aged woman in black, with a solemn but approachable expression, thick black glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. That must be who's taking the funeral. It's a weird thought to me, that someone who never even knew my parents is going to attempt to talk about them, commemorate them as if she was there for every precious moment, when she's only doing it because it's her job. I wonder if she could stand there with such a calm and contrite look if she'd seen what I have?

The woman comes down from the stage to get to me, and smiles nicely.

"Hello, you must be Holly. I'm Iris Illey. Your older friend, Mrs Elizabeth Hutton, has told me some lovely things about your parents that I'll be able to share as a eulogy today. My sincere condolences for your losses."

"Thank you," I reply, "um, did you want me to say some things? Because I'm not sure... I've had a lot on my mind, and I haven't planned anything to say."

"That's alright," Iris assures me, "it doesn't have to be long. Just a few words, if you'd like. A few friends of your parents would like to, so if you would too, just nod when I give you a look after they've said their pieces. Does that sound okay?"

"Yes, that's fine."

Lorraine and Paul are next to come over to me, Lorrain's eyes glossed over a little with unshed tears, and she dabs at them with a tissue, flustered.

"How are you doing, poppet?" She asks me, as Paul pats me on the back with a kind smile. "I suppose you're sick of hearing the 'I'm so sorrys','"

I shake my head with a shrug. "Thanks anyway."

"Sit with us, Holly," Lorraine says, taking their seats at the front left of the hall. I look to Emerson, then at the rest of the seats, trying to figure out where's best to be. He gives me a small nod, and so I sit with them, Emerson on one side of me and Lorraine on the other.

The music dies down, and for a moment, my head pulses violently, like I'm being pulled out of reality and then shoved straight back in. I wince at the unfocused sensation, and Emerson's deep gaze meets mine, unusually soft and understanding. It's enough to slow my breathing back down and focus my attention on Iris, who clears her throat.

"Thank you, everyone, for gathering here today. Today, we commemorate the Cassias."